As we bask in the glory that are The Great Indictments, it is astounding to watch the usual far right wing suspects soil their linen in pretend outrage. Their chosen whining point is that anyone dares to investigate a presidential candidate at all.
This is so disingenuous that it’s breathtaking, as if the avalanche of lies that constitute Trump’s entire career never existed. From the fake photos of the inauguration to the claims of stolen elections, all have been disproved over and over and time and again. And their shameless reaction is “How dare we investigate this man?”
I say how dare we not? Those same soulless vampires sucked the blood of the republic for how many months with a worthless investigation of Hillary that they have since admitted was nothing more than an attempt to derail her candidacy.
But no, the Orange Fiction Parade rolls on, blissfully unconcerned. To bastardize a famous Broadway lyric (sorry):
“Trump would like us to be joyful even when our lies lie panting on the floor!”
Well, how much more can we be joyful when there’s really something to be joyful for?